


Living Stone

by breadthief (trufield)



Series: When The Battle Is Won [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, post battle of the wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 07:25:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufield/pseuds/breadthief
Summary: Davos awakens after the battle against the Walkers in an unfamiliar place, unaware of what has happened or where Stannis is. At least Davos knows he is currently neither dead or undead, but maybe he could remember the events more clearly if it didn't feel like his head was going to split in two.





	Living Stone

Davos awoke in a warm bed. Attempting to open his eyes was more difficult than he expected, so they remained closed. He shifted under soft blankets, becoming acutely aware of how his body hurt. He groaned. His head felt as if it had been split in two, or that he wanted to crack open his skull to relieve the pressure - he wasn't sure. 

This was not Dragonstone, they were a long way from there. It was not Castle Black, Davos was sure of that although he could not say why he was. 

What had happened?

\-----

The next time he woke, Davos was able to open his eyes. He recalled being hit by a wave of nausea as he tried to think. He did not know if he had vomited or not, there was no evidence that he had, perhaps he had just passed out. How long had it been since then?

His aches and pains had not receded, but he was able to string together coherent thoughts more easily. The room was small and the bed was comfortable. There was a fire in the grate and a strange man by the door. He wasn't Stannis’ man. He was lightly armoured and lithe with a helmet that covered most of his face. His skin was dark. Davos wanted to ask where he was from but the only sound that left his mouth was a whimper. The man was unmoved by this.

\-----

Davos awoke again to an unchanged room. Had he been asleep at all? What had happened? Where was he? Where was Stannis? The dead were marching to the wall, Davos should be there- no, he _had_ been there. 

Stannis had not wanted Davos on the battlefield as he was not a proficient fighter, but Davos had argued that he didn't have much choice: they needed every man (or woman) they could get. He had been training with the men at Castle Black, and he still was no true knight or warrior, but he would play his part. 

Stannis had told him to stay close to good swordsmen - Knights, not Wildlings who would run head first into danger. The dead had descended out of the darkness, worse than any nightmare Davos had suffered. He had fought tooth and nail, running on adrenaline and fear. The Walkers could not be allowed beyond the wall - it would be the end of their families, perhaps even the end of the Seven Kingdoms, just as the tale of the Endless Night foretold.

Lightbringer was bathed in flame and whether Stannis was Azor Ahai reborn or not, the blade was still Valyrian Steel in the hands of a battle-hardened veteran. Whenever Davos caught sight of him, the King was putting up a good fight. Far better than Davos, who had decided he should worry more over his own situation. 

Then, just when their forces were overcome and various Lords and Commanders were calling to retreat, there was a sound unlike anything Davos had heard in his life. A great, ear-splitting screech tore through the air and echoed off the ground, like chalk dragged hard over slate. The compacted snow shuddered beneath his feet and the overwhelming noise forced him to hesitate, his body reflexively wanting to close his eyes against it. 

He had been knocked to the ground. Too-bony hands had clawed at him. He thought he saw a flame. He tried to shout but he could not hear his own voice above the screech. He took a blow to the head, his vision swam and he thought he saw a dragon falling from the sky. 

And now this. A warm bed and a silent guard. Evidently, by some miracle, he was not dead, or undead. He cautiously touched his forehead to find it bandaged. That explained the nauseating pain.

“Where am I?” He managed to say, his voice dry. 

His guard did not respond. 

“Where is the King? Where are the Walkers? Tell me, please, what has happened?”

Davos wondered if the man was really a finely crafted statue. He struggled to sit up, his head swimming and bile rising in his throat as he did so. 

“Father!” Devan cried, for Davos would recognise his voice anywhere. 

Davos turned his head too suddenly to look for his son, causing him vomit over the edge of the bed. 

“Father! Lie back, lie back.”

Hands pushed him firmly but gently back onto the bed. 

“Devan?” Davos rasped, grimacing at the bitter taste on his tongue and trying to see his boy through squinted eyes. 

“Yes, do not worry. We are safe.”

“You must tell me. You must tell me what happened.”

“I do not think-” Devan sighed as Davos tried to move again. “Alright, alright. Mother always said you were as stubborn as a mule.”

 _Marya_. By the Gods, how Davos longed to see her again. To hear her laugh, to hold her in his arms. How long had it been?

Devan sat on the edge of the bed, with his hand on Davos’ arm. Davos could see him now - exhausted, haunted perhaps, but no injuries that he could discern. He sighed and closed his eyes again, for the light was painful, and Devan began to speak. 

A dragon _had_ descended into the battlefield but it had no rider, no white-haired dragon Queen that was rumoured beyond the sea. It was a great grey beast that seemed too heavy for flight, as it could not stay in the air long or rise particularly high, and would land with enough force to shake the earth. As if it was made of stone. 

It set its flames upon the Walkers and gave Stannis’ forces the advantage. Devan said from his position atop the Wall he saw that the dragon had raised its head as the King had raised his blade as it approached. The boy considered it to be Stannis’ dragon, coming to the aid of a King who could wield flame. 

The icy weapons of the enemy could not pierce the dragon’s stony hide and it seemed impervious to them. But their forces were many and the dragon was slow, the fight was not won so easily. 

Then, like some fairytale, the Dragon Queen _had_ arrived, and with such dragonfire and her forces that arrived at Castle Black later, the enemy did not stand a chance. Devan had seen her, scoping out the battle from on-high before she must have told her army to act and then returned once more with her dragons to join the fight. 

_Waiting to see if it was a winnable fight._ Davos thought, his pain and confusion making him cynical. _Waiting for our numbers to diminish._

From the air, the foreign dragons could not be as precise with their flames, and Devan was sure that in some instances the living and the dead burned together. 

“And now she is the saviour of Westeros, we are her prisoners,” Davos said bitterly. He should be glad that the battle was won, the he and Devan were alive, and that he was granted a comfortable imprisonment. He was not. 

Devan shifted uncomfortably. 

“Has she done anything to you?” Davos questioned. 

“Only…” Devan hung his head. “Only that I bend the knee and name her as my Queen. I wanted to see you! I wouldn't have had the freedom to come and speak to you it I had not done it. I am sorry to disappoint you father, I know how much His Grace- uh, Lord Stannis - oh, I am sorry. I know how much he has done for us.”

Davos squeezed his hand. “It is alright Devan. I would much rather you were alive and not a stubborn old mule like me. After all of this I would not have you fed to her dragons over something a small as who you call what title.”

“But you would not have done it,” Devan choked. 

“No, but I am an old fool. My allegiance to the King will represent yours also, I am sure he would understand that.” _If I had the opportunity to explain it._ “What happened to him?”

Davos feared he knew the answer. The Dragon Queen was likely to burn a usurper and make his men bend the knee if they did not want to suffer the same fate. 

“She was going to burn him, in front of everyone, but… her dragon refused her order. People are saying it could smell his Targaryen blood.”

Davos sighed in relief, finally letting himself relax. 

“You would have been proud of him father. He stood before a _dragon_ , ready to die, and he did not flinch.” Devan’s own voice was filled with awe and there was no doubt of the affection the boy still held for their King. “No one has seen him but I know he is still alive. They are deciding what to do with him.”

Davos knew what would happen, if the girl could be convinced by her dragon’s disobedience. Stannis would have a choice, if he was fortunate, of exile or execution. Stannis was too proud to be chased from his own home, the lands he had fought for, and he would not admit defeat in such a way. 

He might still be alive now, but he wouldn't be for much longer. 

“Have the Northmen bent the knee? What of the Wildlings? The Queen - Selyse?

“The Northerners did not like to be ruled over when they had no chance of resistance. They see it as a cheap move, to catch them when they are tired and weak and expect them to be grateful. I know. This is all they talked about when I was being held with them. The Wildlings disliked it especially.”

“I can imagine. But where are we, Devan?”

“Winterfell.”

“Ah. Of course.”

“And the Queen… Lady Selyse, that is… she… She did not like Queen Daenerys, she would not accept that Stannis could not be King. Lady Melisandre has not been seen but Lady Selyse was insistent she would return to help, to fulfil the prophecy and have Lord Stannis on the Iron Throne.” Devan looked away in discomfort. “She wanted to start an uprising, sure that Lady Melisandre would come. She only had a few Florent men. They did not get far,” he concluded in a whisper. 

“What of the princess?” Davos dared to ask, his voice equally low. 

“Queen Daenerys has her by her side at all times. She is well.”

_She is a hostage. Being paraded to show that Stannis is powerless. To show what a kind and caring ruler she is, being merciful to the heir of her enemy._

“What happened to the grey dragon?” Davos asked to change the subject. 

“It roams beyond the wall. One of the Queen’s dragons tried to fight it but it is older and stronger than them and I think it is not as affected by the cold.” Devan leaned closer. “One of the men told me that it is not made of stone but that it suffers from Greyscale. That it had been so badly infected it stopped moving altogether and must have looked like a great rocky mound for a long time until something woke it and cured it’s insides.”

_The blood of Valyria. King’s Blood._

“I wanted to tell Princess Shireen. Imagine how happy she would be to know our dragon is just like her?” Devan’s eyes shone. He had always been great friends with the princess. “But I haven't been able to speak to her,” Devan sighed. 

Before Davos could reply, his guard stamped his foot on the ground, standing to attention. 

“Boy,” a gruff voice said from the doorway. “You’ve had more than your time. Come along now.”

Davos squinted at the man that entered the room as Devan retreated from his side. 

“Ser Jorah Mormont?” He couldn't be certain, due to a great ugly brand that obscured one side of the man's face. 

“Ser Davos Seaworth,” Jorah responded with a nod. “What has happened to the world when exiles and criminals stand at the side of royalty?” His mouth twitched upward into a smile. 

“My father is a Lord,” Devan corrected. 

“Devan.” Davos implored. “What did I say about titles? You must say what is expected of you, it is only a name.”

“Listen to your father. He is a smart man and I'm afraid no longer a Lord Hand. Go on now,” Jorah ushered Devan to the door. 

“I will visit again father,” he said solemnly. 

“I am proud of you Devan. Never forget that. Ser Jorah?” He asked just before the man left the room. “Could I speak with you?” 

He nodded, and came to stand by Davos’ bedside. From the way Jorah had greeted him, and from what Davos knew of the man, he seemed to be a kindred spirit. Davos would try his luck. 

“If anything were to happen to me… Devan needs to go home. My wife needs him home. It has… It has been so long.” Davos didn't want to consider if he even had lands anymore or if his home would be taken along with his title. 

Jorah nodded. “He's a good lad. If he keeps his head down he’ll be alright.”

It wasn't a promise, or even an acceptance that Jorah would help, but it was enough. Davos sighed. 

“What of Stannis?”

“He is as stubborn as you'd expect. You know I cannot discuss this with you, but I'm sure he will be glad to hear you are coherent. He asks after your health each day.”

Davos wasn't sure how he felt about that. He didn't want to be used as a pawn against Stannis if it was clear his King cared for him. Jorah shouldn't want Stannis to feel glad of anything. 

Then Jorah sighed and gave Davos his answer. 

“It's a tricky thing to love your leader, isn't it?”

With that, he was gone and Davos was left with his aching mind, trying to come to terms with all he had been told. 

\-----

Davos received another visitor the following day: the Dragon Queen herself. There was an additional guard that stood at the door but no knights or advisors. Davos’ first thought was that she looked much too young to be a queen. 

“Ser Davos,” she said sweetly as she sat on the chair by his bedside. “I have been told much about you and your Lord Stannis.”

Davos only frowned at her but her smile did not falter. 

“I know of your loyalty. I would like you to tell me about the usurper’s brother, a usurper in his own right. Tell me why you would be so loyal to a man who mutilated you. I am told he is a harsh man, with no love for anyone and so no one loves him in turn. How could such a man hope to rule?”

“He did not wish it,” Davos said flatly. “He knows more than anyone how he is perceived by others. He saw it as his duty.”

“Then why won't he bend the knee to me if he does not truly want the crown? And now he is ‘the Cripple King’. He knows he cannot best me, so why won't he bend?”

“The Northerners will not bend unless he does?” Davos guessed. Surely it was the only reason she needed Stannis to submit. 

“How can people be loyal to a man they do not like?”

“He fought for them when no one else would. He's honest and just and he perseveres, even when a situation appears hopeless.”

“And he lost.”

“He suffered personal losses, just like the people he fought for. He fought beside them in battle.”

Daenerys considered this. “Tell me why you value him then, Ser Smuggler. I am told that you are the heart he does not have. I must say, his knighting of you is something that gives me pause.”

Davos told her of the starving boy he had met at Storm’s End, who had received no glory for his feat, and yet he honoured Davos as their saviour. A familiar tale, and one she had likely already been told, but this was Davos’ only chance. A chance for what, he wasn't sure. Her mercy? 

He spoke honestly, making his own selfish intentions clear and not glossing over Stannis’ harsh nature. He told her of how he consented to the loss of his fingertips, how fair he thought it was - more than fair. How it was the greatest example of Stannis’ justice and his good character - that he paid no heed to someone's standing. If a Lord erred he would still be punished, and if a lowborn, illiterate smuggler proved himself of worth he would be rewarded. 

Davos spoke of the trials they had faced since Robert’s death - not for pity, but to show Stannis’ resilience, his military mind, and how he heeded good advice. 

“You have been told he has no heart, and that he cannot love, but how could a man go through so much if he did not care? I would ask you to consider the reverse of what you have been told. A man, a boy, who is not shown love does not know its ways, cannot speak its language. He becomes hardened.”

“I hope he appreciates the efforts you make for him, Ser Davos.”

“Aye,” Davos nodded. “I know that he does.” He felt his face grow warm with the memory that he now knew the King really _did_ have a love for him. 

“And do not think I have not noticed that you refuse to address me as you ought to, but I have dealt with enough stubborn Northerners this week that I will choose to overlook it this once. Remember your place next time we speak.” She stood and wrapped her thick fur shawl around her shoulders. “Pray your Lord does not make you lose your head.”

Davos did just that and spent the rest of the day cautiously moving about the room. A dull ache still persisted in his head but it no longer made him sick. He had also become aware of another issue that he tried to disguise from his captors: he could not see out of his left eye. 

Whenever he tried to pick something up, he missed it. He hoped that if anyone noticed this that they would think it was due to the pain in his head. He did not want to show a weakness that might be exploited. 

Now that he was mobile, he had been able to look in a mirror and see that the eye was intact. He wasn't sure if that was reassuring or not. At least if he could _see_ the damage he could know if it would heal. 

He did not see Devan. He prayed for him too. 

\-----

The next visitor he received the following afternoon. The very man he dared not hope to see again. 

Stannis shuffled into the room with a hesitant step. The false leg had been taken from him and he leaned heavily on a wooden crutch. He was flanked by Ser Jorah and a man Davos recognised as Ser Barristan Selmy. 

Davos had jumped up immediately in his concern, causing his head to throb. Stannis had never walked without the leg and Davos knew he would hate how vulnerable it made him. 

“Your Grace!”

Davos went to him and as soon as he was close enough, the crutch clattered to the floor and Stannis half leant, half fell on him. Davos wasn't certain if Stannis had stumbled or if it was an embrace. Either way, he was glad if the contact. 

“You should watch your tongue, Davos,” Stannis said and Davos helped him to a chair. “They will not take kindly to you addressing me as such. You do not have to prove your loyalty to me any longer. You should return to your family. It is what you deserve for your years of faithful service.”

Davos felt his heart sink. He looked at Stannis’ gaunt, stubbled face and tired eyes. “Is this a farewell?” He spoke carefully to not choke on the words.

“Perhaps.” Stannis sighed. “I asked to have your council.”

Davos sat on the edge of his bed and leant towards his king. “Then why did they not take me to you?”

“I wanted to see how you were being kept.” Stannis surveyed the room. “It is satisfactory.”

He had been better cared for than Stannis, that much was clear. 

“What counsel?” Davos asked, aware that their time was limited. 

“I have been given a choice. Bend the knee or exile.”

Davos blinked. He wouldn't have ever imagined that Stannis would need help with such a choice. The only consequence of not bending was exile? It seemed too good to be true. 

“And if you bend the knee? You take the black?” It was the only option Davos could think Stannis would have been given. 

Stannis swallowed and tensed his jaw. “I’d take a position on the Small Council.”

“Excuse me?” Of all the scenarios Davos had considered, this hadn’t been one of them. 

“Ordinarily, there would be no choice.” Stannis barrelled on. “I would be exiled. Only now… Now I have people to represent. King or not, I fought for them, promised not to forget them when I attained the Throne. They fought and died for me. Do I not… have a responsibility to them, to represent their views as best I can? To work to secure their lands for them and to stop any further loss of life?”

An almost overwhelming combination of pride and love unfurled in Davos’ chest. He squeezed Stannis’ forearm. “I believe you've already made your decision.”

“I'd like to hear your thoughts.”

“You can keep your promises to the people from within the Small Council. It is a noble thing.” Nevertheless, Davos frowned. “There is no catch?”

“Well, it is a blow to my pride but that had already suffered under the Bolton Bastard. She needs the Northerners to be peaceable. I am her best chance. She executed my wife, Davos, that is more than a mere slight.” He pondered in silence for a moment. “They will not think my bending as weak? That I am only saving my own hide? It is likely if I do this that they will not listen to me anyway.”

“That is not true, Your Grace. You have proven yourself to them. They will give you the opportunity to explain yourself.”

“I hope you are right. You have been right in many things, my Onion Knight.” He leant closer to Davos so he would not be overheard. “If it does not go as planned and I am on the wall or exiled or dead, you are not to follow my fate. That is my last order of you as your King. You are a free man, go home when you are permitted to.”

Stannis then pulled away and gestured to have his crutch brought to him. Jorah followed the instruction but Stannis refused his aid to help him stand. 

Everything was happening too suddenly. Why must they always part when they had only just been reunited? 

“Your Grace!” Davos pleaded. For what he did not know. 

Stannis turned his head to look at Davos and despite how the past weeks and months had haggard him, he stood tall and defiant. The commanding, noble presence of a King. 

“You may call me Stannis. Thank you for your invaluable counsel and dedicated service.” Stannis inclined his head to Davos before making his way to the door, Barristan and Jorah behind him. 

When the door closed and Davos was left with his mute sentry, he wept. He cried tears of frustration, of sorrow, of feeble hope and his own hopelessness. 

\-----

A few days later, Davos was feeling much better - physically. He was worse in his mood. He paced his room, glared at his guard and worried constantly. He was in the middle of his regular circuit when Ser Jorah entered. 

“Come with me. We can't have you wearing tracks in the floor.”

Davos did not speak until they were halfway down the corridor. “Where are we going?”

“To see Lord Stannis, he needs you for his speech.”

Davos’ heart leapt despite his anxiety, and he quickened his step. Jorah did not smile, but he couldn't hide the amusement in his eyes. Davos felt heat rise in his cheeks but then he noticed the pin that Jorah wore in his breast.

“You are the Hand of the Queen?”

“Aye. What a pair you and I make, hm?”

“She appears to have a fine council if you and Ser Barristan are among her advisors.”

“And soon your Lord Stannis.”

“It is true then?”

“It is. Stannis is a valuable asset and his knowledge of how the previous counsel was run will be beneficial.”

“We have you to thank for this then?”

“Not only me, and do not give your thanks yet. I imagine they'll lock horns over many issues. But Her Grace does not want to be surrounded by sycophants, she sees the value in honest counsel.”

“That is well.”

Davos was not familiar with Winterfell to know where they were headed. He did not look at the people they passed, not wanting to misstep now with how he addressed someone. He wasn't sure he could bring himself to _not_ refer to Stannis as his King until Stannis officially declared that was no longer his title. 

“He has changed much since I saw him last.” Jorah said. “For the better. And that is down to you.”

“Oh, I don't know about that. He just needed someone to listen, to understand what he could achieve.”

“Being humble doesn't get anyone anywhere. He is far more open to debate than he was before - more reasonable and considerate.”

“Being humble has got me this far,” Davos smiled. 

“That is true. Perhaps times are changing. Who knows, this may even be the age of the honest man.”

They laughed and Jorah came to a stop before a door on their right. It opened after a precise sequence of knocks to reveal Ser Barristan. He stepped aside to allow them entry and closed the door behind them. 

“Ser Davos,” Stannis greeted, looking every inch a Lord. His face was freshly shaven and clothed anew in neat black that wasn't worn out or roughened by the elements. 

“Y- My Lord?” Davos approached and assisted him in fastening a thick fur cloak around his shoulders. 

“You will be at my side as I deliver this speech.”

“Certainly, my Lord.”

“There's no point in delaying it. Let us go.”

Jorah and Barristan led the way and Davos kept close to Stannis. It would be foolish to wish him luck, for Stannis would not appreciate it, but Davos risked squeezing his arm in reassurance. Stannis looked at him, frowned, and nodded. 

They followed Stannis outside, where the people had gathered. It was terribly cold but there was no room big enough inside for Stannis to address everyone. Davos hoped it was a favourable sign that so many people had left the comfort of the indoors behind to hear him speak. 

“You can guess as to why I am here,” Stannis began. “But I will tell you my reasoning, and it is my hope that you will agree with me. I have bent the knee to Queen Daenerys. It was not an easy decision as some might believe, and it was not a decision I made lightly. 

I have been granted a position on the Small Council. I have not bent the knee to save mine own hide or to gain titles. I believe it is the best chance I have to do what I promised for you - the people of the North. If I was exiled or executed those promises would leave with me. I may not be a King, but in this position I am better equipped to put your best interests across and ensure the North is not forgotten. 

That is my position. The Queen is set to march on King's Landing with a large army of able warriors. I am to remain here, organise provisions and oversee the tending of the wounded. A small force will remain with me, for us to retain a method of defence, and backup for the Queen if required. 

I hope you can see my reasoning and that I will still have your support in this. It was not a simple decision. I thank you for the sacrifices each of you have made for the realm thus far, and I will not force anyone to march on King's Landing with the Queen if they do not wish to.”

There was a moment of silence before Stannis added: “that is all.”

The crowd were unsure if Stannis awaited a response but then someone cried out. 

“That Lannister bitch hoped we'd die out here. We’ll make her remember the North!”

That began a chant: _remember the North_ and _the North remembers_ blending together. Davos joined in, because he knew Stannis wouldn't, and a large hand drew him into the crowd. Tormund grinned at him. 

“He is still too grave, Ser Onion. You need to fuck him and set him right,” he laughed. 

Davos took too long to form a response. 

“You _have_?! Then there's no hope for the man. Unless he is bitter because he's missed your cock. Fuck him again until he's loose and all his fancy words fail him.”

Davos felt his face burn despite the cold air. “I take it he still has your support?”

Tormund shrugged. “You know I don't care for kings and thrones. As long as we are left alone again.”

Thankfully Stannis approached and Davos rushed to his side, leaving Tormund’s further lewd remarks to the winter wind. 

“That was finely done, Your- my Lord.”

Stannis nodded in thanks. “It feels like a slight to leave me here and take my men to sack King's Landing.” 

He grimaced in displeasure but Davos could not help but feel relieved. They would be safer here. Stannis deserved some respite from continual battles. 

“I should still fight. I have fought with this leg before. Perhaps she does not feel she can trust me. As if I'd stab her in the back and aid the Lannisters.”

Stannis reminded him of a petulant child, and although the situation was serious, Davos couldn't help but smile. He felt giddy. 

“This is amusing to you.” Stannis said flatly, narrowing his eyes. 

“I am only pleased that you will be safe.”

“Indeed…” Stannis looked thoughtful.

“I am… to stay here with you?” Davos ventured, afraid of what the answer might be. 

“If you so wish. The choice is yours.”

Davos exhaled a relieved puff of air that was almost a laugh. “As if I would choose anything else.”

Stannis looked pleased at that and Davos found himself wondering if the night they spent together before the battle would ever be mentioned again. 

\-----

He did not have to wait long to find out. Stannis sent Devan to stay with Shireen, bluntly dismissed his guards, and locked Davos in his room with him. Before Davos could speak, a small wineskin was thrust at him. Davos pulled out the stopper, sniffed it, and dipped his little finger in. Oil. 

“Where did you get this, my Lord?”

“I took it with me into battle. To remind me of what you said.”

Davos might have laughed if Stannis wasn't so deathly serious. Other knights took pretty favours of their lovers into battle - silken handkerchiefs and the like, and yet Stannis, practically minded as ever, took oil. 

“The confiscated it when I was taken prisoner but thankfully no one expects me to take anyone into my bed. They assumed it was to aid my leg. I did not correct them.”

Davos did laugh then, putting the cork back in the wineskin and tossing it onto the bed. The moment he leaned up on his toes, Stannis pressed a firm kiss to his mouth. 

“You will make good on your promise,” Stannis growled.

“I don't recall promising anything.”

“It was unspoken.”

Davos put his hands on Stannis’ shoulders and kissed him again. “It was.”

He fumbled with Stannis’ doublet until Stannis stilled his hands. 

“What is it? Something is wrong.”

Davos sighed. “Nothing is where I think it is. I cannot see out of my left eye.”

Stannis tilted Davos’ head up to scrutinise the eye. 

“I cannot see anything wrong with it,” Davos said. “It's to do with the damage to my head.”

“Have you seen a maester?”

“No. But I will. Now we're not in danger of getting executed anytime soon.”

“I will send one myself. After.”

“After,” Davos smiled and nodded. 

“I am capable of undressing myself and I will undress you also.”

“I can manage-”

“I will enjoy undressing you,” Stannis said firmly. 

“Alright,” Davos relented as Stannis’ nimble fingers set to work. 

Stannis was as utilitarian in this as he was everything else, there were no lingering touches or teasing kisses as more of Davos’ body was bared. As a result it was quickly done and Davos took the time for those lingering touches himself. 

Stannis laid back on the bed, exactly how he had done before, waiting for Davos to do the work. Davos gladly complied, leaning over him, kissing at his neck and stroking his sides. They were using Stannis leg as an unspoken excuse for Stannis to be submissive but Davos knew it was largely down to his inexperience. He wondered briefly if it was more than that, if Stannis… enjoyed submitting. That didn't seem right but perhaps it was a great relief to have decisions made for him for once. 

Stannis’ pale skin flushed so readily under Davos’ attention, from high on his cheeks and down his neck, and Davos enjoyed sucking and nipping at his collar bone, his ear, his shoulder and anywhere else so he could see the colour spread. He stroked his hands over Stannis’ stomach and thighs. This was the soft, lily white skin of a Lord and if Stannis’ had not suffered more instances of starvation than anyone ought to, and had not been beaten down by the elements and his brethren so often, his skin might have been this pure all over. His face would not have aged so soon and his hands would not have weathered. 

Davos like those things too. It was more thrilling to find this hidden away beneath his clothes, like a secret or a treasure, for only Davos to take. He put his lips to Stannis’ hardened nipple, pink like the first bud of spring through the winter snow, and lightly brushed across it before exploring with his tongue. Stannis hissed and shuddered as Davos’ fingers teased the other nipple. 

The paleness of Stannis’ skin was extenuated by the black hair on his body. Davos moved back up to kiss at his neck again as his hand smoothed over Stannis’ stomach, stopping to move his fingers back and forth through the curls between his legs. Stannis’ hands were clumsy in Davos’ hair and he grunted through his teeth, shifting his hips up. 

“I should put your gift to good use shouldn't I?” Davos breathed against his ear. 

“Yes.” 

It was a response delivered as sharp as ever, but Stannis held Davos’ face up and caught him in a hungry (and somewhat messy) kiss. Davos attempted to lead by example, tilting his head and moving his tongue slowly. There was definitely progress from the last time, Stannis was more of an active participant. Was it because they had already done this before that he didn't have as many anxieties about it, or that near death experiences made any man live more in the moment? Davos decided it didn't matter as Stannis squeezed his arse with a firm hand. 

He knew Stannis had not bedded a man before and he had already resolved to take charge, without a word about it, and do everything himself. As much as he would like to gently coax Stannis into learning, Davos doubted he would take it well. Besides, they did not have the time. 

“The oil then, my Lord.”

Stannis frowned. “Only if you refer to me as I asked you to. You are not doing this as my servant, or under order. I have not demanded this of you-”

Davos kissed him before Stannis wound himself up and convinced himself that Davos was merely providing him a service. 

“It is freely given, _Stannis_. Do not doubt it. I thought you valued my honest counsel.”

“I do.” Stannis handed him the wineskin and Davos gave him a grin in return before pulling the cork out with his teeth. 

He poured the oil over his fingers, letting the drips fall on his thighs. It had been a long time since he had lain with a man, and he was not as young as he used to be. He would need to start slow and ease into it, but that was probably better for Stannis to learn from anyway. 

Davos flopped back onto the bed, spitting the cork across the room - an act he immediately regretted. This wasn't some travern or a quick fuck below deck. This was Stannis Baratheon. But Stannis did not seem to mind Davos’ more brazen behaviour. 

Davos rolled onto his side, moving his leg up. It wasn't the most pleasing way for Stannis to watch but Davos couldn't be contorting himself into positions - perhaps once he had been well rested he would be able to. 

He moved his hand behind himself and his slick finger travelled down between his cheeks to probe at his hole. A groan escaped him as he pushed inside. He waited to adjust to the sensation before going further and carefully taking the whole finger, stroking himself inside. 

Stannis was staring at him with complete focus, which was a little unnerving and more than a little arousing. Davos groaned turning his head away. 

“Am I off-putting?” Stannis asked in a deep, low murmur. 

Davos looked at him again and shook his head. “Your gaze has always been… intense, but that is no bad thing. And I can see that you’re enjoying it.”

“Hmm.”

Davos let his eyes fall closed as he added another finger, easing the way and giving Stannis something to watch. All he could hear was his own heavy breathing, or perhaps Stannis was breathing in the same manner. 

“ _Davos-_ ,” Stannis hissed through gritted teeth. 

Davos was not surprised to open his eyes and see that Stannis had not moved at all. He would not jerk himself off as another man might. He sat, jaw clenched, face flushed, and his cock begging even if his voice wasn't. 

Davos removed his fingers from himself and sat up. “Lie back.”

Stannis frowned, which wasn't unusual, but Davos had long ago learnt to identify the subtleties of his harsh expression. Stannis’ jaw wasn't tense and one half of his bottom lip was pulled slightly inward, as if he might chew it. It was a cautious expression, hesitant and uncertain - Davos didn't think anyone else would be permitted to see such vulnerability in him. 

“Unless there is something else you were thinking of? I was only being mindful of your leg.”

“You fuss too much about my leg - or lack of it,” Stannis grumbled but did as Davos suggested. 

Davos began unbuckling the straps that held the weirwood leg, relying on his sense of touch over his sense of sight. He took his time, running his fingers over the indentations that remained in the skin, feeling the stark difference of the rough, charred stump and the smooth, soft skin. 

When Davos finally removed the leg and placed it safely on the floor, he took up the wineskin again that he had propped up safely against the pillows. Stannis immediately raised himself up on his elbows in anticipation as Davos poured oil over his hand. Their gazes met as Davos reached down, and Stannis did not break eye contact when Davos curled his fingers around his shaft, although his eyes were half-lidded and a groan escaped through his teeth. 

Davos worked quickly here, roughly coating Stannis’ cock with light fingers as Stannis’ hips jerked up to meet his hand. To Davos’ delight, when he stopped and moved back, Stannis grabbed hold of him to stop him moving away. Davos kissed him, pushing him back down as he straddled his waist.

Stannis’ hands naturally fell to Davos’ hips and he squeezed with bruising force as Davos lowered himself down. 

“ _Gods_ ,” Stannis hissed the moment Davos’ body enveloped him. He inhaled thick, gasping breaths as if he were drowning. 

Davos took him slowly, feeling the stretch, Stannis perfectly still beneath him, his whole body tense with restraint. 

“Selyse-” Stannis growled once Davos had settled and Davos hesitated. He hadn't expected that. “She- her body was tight because she did not want me.”

“Do I look like a man who does not want?” Davos soothed as he stroked Stannis’ chest and began to move. “I’m tight because it's been so long. Because I've been waiting to have your cock in me. I'm tight to give you pleasure,” he said as he tensed around him. Davos was rewarded by Stannis thrusting his hips up. “It's not a rejection. Not from me.”

To prove his point, Davos wrapped a hand around his own erection, to focus Stannis’ attention on it so that Davos’ own pleasure would not be doubted. He stroked lazily, more focused on his pace of riding, and Stannis covered Davos’ hand with his own. Davos made a satisfied groan, and let go to leave Stannis to pleasure him how he wished. 

Once Stannis was steadily meeting him with his thrusts, Davos moved his hips in a circular motion, resulting in a breathless string of curses from his Lord (who would always be his King, and so much more than that). Stannis’ thrusts came harder and less controlled, he gripped Davos’ side and his cock too tight, but it wasn't too long before Davos felt Stannis spend inside him, and his grip relaxed. 

“Davos…” Stannis sighed. “You are the one thing I will never regret.”

Davos leaned down to kiss him, feeling Stannis’ cock slip free. Stannis held him against his chest and Davos could feel the pounding of his heart, and sweat-damp chest hair against his cheek. 

“Roll over.”

Davos did as he was bid, rolling off of Stannis and onto his back. He wondered what the maids would make of the sheets in the morning. Perhaps they should have been more careful. He sighed as Stannis began tugging his cock again. He did not want to think of problems now. 

“Stannis!” He cried in pleasant surprise as as those thin, uncertain lips pressed against his shaft. All he had to do was mouth at it before Davos lost himself. 

He took one look at Stannis and hurriedly wiped the seed from his face with the sheet. It was most improper for Stannis to marked in such a way, despite the sight of it making Davos feel light-headed. Davos kissed him in apology. 

“You will advise me on that also,” Stannis said as if they had just come out of a council meeting. 

“Of course. I can advise you on many things M’Lord,” Davos smiled and then he saw the wineskin in a pool of oil on the bed. “Shit.”

Stannis followed his gaze and appeared entirely nonplussed. 

“If she beheads me for bedding you then I should have never pledged my loyalty to her. And if everyone could turn a blind eye to Robert’s whoring and Renly’s… preferences, then I can have this. Especially if I am no longer a king.”

For the first time in years, Stannis sounded truly relieved. 


End file.
